Stages of creation

I did that thing tonight that I was talking about the other day; spent half the night on a painting, finished it pretty much and celebrated what I thought was my finest hour to date. Then came back half an hour later and picked holes in it (metaphorically speaking, I'm not that weird).
Now, at close of business, when the green lights running in strips around the tops of the wall are reading 'market closed', I am content again and looking forward to adding the finishing touches (is there a cool French phrase for that? Must be.) tomorrow. Would love to do it now but the fat lady is singing and I am in danger of messing up if I try and work any further tonight. The painting in question is my much heralded (by me) 'Bun Hanzo', yet another character appeared from the depths of my addled brain. I have already got a frame for her and I have been plotting her sequel in my sketch book in traditional style. This is where I say 'this is the last one for this show, I'll do something else now' and then pick carefully back in my own footprints and start the next 'last' one. The next last one is Bun again, this time with a very coarse, pallette knife and scrafito background in neutrals overprinted with 'wallpaper; Bun is the only colourful element in this one and she is all zingy silk kimono and pattern overload like origami paper, but still as a stone in the corner of her humble dwelling contemplating the scene. Or that's how it looks in my minds eye just at the moment...translation follows shortly.
Bought my first Hemingway book today having realised the large gaping maw in my literary knowledge, ie: haven't read any of his stuff. Good old Oxfam came up with a very sixties edition of 'Green Hills of Africa' so the journey starts there, once I have done with Kirsty Gunn's novel that I am cherishing at the moment.
Bought a print from a fellow artist in a moment of gay abandon on the internet tonight; a great little piece of a kind of abstracty harbour in lovely neutrals and blues, colours after my own heart; by Jackie Gardiner. I do like a treat.
The weather tonight is so wild it is trying to enter the house at the seams and is sounds like the biggest bucket of water in the world is being tipped over my roof; almost as disturbing as the one tropical storm I have witnessed in Thailand - and that was pure scary. Bed time, perchance to sleep for the crazy rain.